


We Made It Through Everything (The Old and The New)

by GingerAle3



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship, Sharing Clothes, takes place some time after s2e17, technically stealing but what's a little theft between mutually pining friends?, this was meant to be fluffy but a little angst slipped in there too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerAle3/pseuds/GingerAle3
Summary: Jan acquires a sweater and thinks about how much things have changed.(Title from "The London Air Raids" by Vian Izak)
Relationships: Hank Pym/Janet Van Dyne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	We Made It Through Everything (The Old and The New)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn’t help but steal it" from the 50 Cliché Tropes & Prompts list by bucky-plums-barnes on tumblr

Later, Jan would claim it wasn’t her fault. The way it had been left out in the open, it was practically asking to be picked up by someone. She’d ducked into Hank’s room to ask if he wanted to go grab some lunch, but he wasn’t there. She couldn’t help but sigh. She’d bet any amount of money that he was down in the labs again, and she’d do so without a moment’s hesitation. That meant that he was working on something, and that meant that he wouldn’t be leaving it unattended any time soon, not even for long enough to get lunch.

“Hey Jarvis? Mind making sure that Hank remembers to eat something? If he’s up to his neck in research, he’s more likely to listen to you than me.” Not that she was bitter about that. Or hurt. It could just be a little frustrating that the only chance she had to spend any time at all with him outside of the labs was if she managed to catch him during his seemingly non-existent breaks.

“Of course, Miss Van Dyne.” Her frustration didn’t die down as she cast her eyes around the room. For the most part, it looked the exact same as it had when they first moved in. After everything that had happened, everything that had changed, his room barely even looked like it could be called his. Sure, there were some small differences she could notice if she looked close enough: the bed was made, but hastily, and a suitcase was leaned against the wall, still packed after his move back into the mansion several weeks ago. His recent absence may be responsible for some of it, but even before that his room had been sparse, to say the least. An empty coffee cup had been abandoned on the table, but the only other sign of recent habitation was the slightly askew, partly full laundry basket. That was where she saw it.

Hanging over the rim of the basket, clearly thrown haphazardly or absent-mindedly, was a slightly faded maroon sweater. It had been a while since she’d really seen him in anything like that, after they’d first joined the Avengers he spent most of his time in his suit. Even after he’d quit, most of the times she’d visited he’d been wearing shirts in varying degrees of rumpled. The soft-looking sweater brought her back to a time before that, to his original lab and days of being desperate to make a difference, days of leaning over Hank’s shoulders and asking what he was looking at under the microscope. When he would tell her about his research without the self-doubt that had crept into his eyes after Hydra’s attack on the city and that seemed to take up permanent residence after Ultron, and without the manic glint she’d seen in the last moments before he faked his own death.

She shuddered a little at the memory, holding onto her own arms as she pushed those thoughts from her head. Thinking back to that time still hurt, everything about it did, the things he’d done, the things he’d said, the way he’d acted…

Hank was coming back to them more and more with every day that passed, but he still had a new, cynical edge to him that hadn’t been there before, a bitterness that crept into his voice sometimes, and that was what hurt the most. They finally had him back, but he was different, and might never be the same again. She knew she had to hold onto hope, but it was so hard sometimes, and being confronted with this reminder of how things used to be almost brought her to tears.

It hadn’t been a conscious decision to cross the empty room, but before she knew it she was reaching out and running tentative fingers over the fabric. It was as soft as it looked, and before she could think twice, she scooped it up and held it close to her chest. She buried her face into it as she tried not to cry, and as the smell of paper and coffee and the chemicals he used to clean the lab reached her, it almost felt like being held in his arms.

So yes, she stole the sweater and no, she felt no shame about it. It wasn’t even particularly missed, it had been a few weeks since she’d taken it and he hadn’t said a thing. He probably hadn’t even noticed it was gone. Besides, it was doing her a lot more good than it would have been doing him. Hank had slipped back into the habit of wearing his suit most of the time, same as most of them, though thankfully he’d stopped insisting on keeping the mask on and added a lab coat. It almost felt like it had before he quit, apart from the new colour scheme and occasional bout of self-loathing and anger.

Regardless though, he wasn’t wearing a lot of casual clothes, so why would he need the sweater? Meanwhile, she kept it tucked away in her wardrobe for the most part, carefully hidden under a few of her own coats. Most days it stayed there, but there were times she waited until she was sure no-one else would need her until the next day and then pulled it out. Sometimes it was Hank himself, days where he was snappish or aggressive in a way he’d never been before, even if it was never directed at her. Other times, it was nightmares, or bad memories in general. Others still, it was just because she’d had a bad day, or the latest threat had gotten to her a little more than usual, and she wanted a little comfort. Those nights, she would pull it over her head, push her arms into the too-long sleeves, and curl up quite happily like that. Sometimes she’d even fall asleep still wearing it. It did wonders for nightmares.

After one night like that, she made her way downstairs, yawning and stretching as she went. The smell of fresh coffee brewing drew her to the kitchen, wondering who else was awake. The sight of Hank sat at the kitchen table, already poring over the results of an experiment but still clearly not dressed for the day, complete with endearingly wild bedhead, brought a smile to her face. He looked up as she walked in, head moving away from the paper he was holding a second or two before his eyes caught up, clearly absorbed in what he was reading. There was a smile on his face that was all Hank, but as his eyes reached her, it faltered and shifted into confusion.

“Is that…my sweater?”

Shit.

Looking down at herself, she held back a wince as she saw he was right. She had forgotten to take the sweater off that morning and just walked into the kitchen still wearing it, right in front of him. There had to be some kind of way to save this.

“Uhh…no?” There was absolutely no way to save this. How was she ever meant to look him in the eye again? As it was, she couldn’t even bring herself to look back at where he was still sat at the table. At least the rest of the team wasn’t here. Right? She quickly whipped her head around the room. No sign of anyone, but there was no way to prove that Clint wasn’t in the vents or-

“I was wondering where that had gone. Was beginning to think that I’d lost it, or maybe someone set it on fire and decided not to tell me.” He didn’t sound annoyed. Or awkward. Just warm, and maybe a little teasing. Hazarding a peek up at him from under her bangs, she was surprised to see that his expression matched his tone. An affectionate smile, with just the slightest hint of humour in his eyes. Tentatively, she smiled back and, still feeling a little like she was walking on eggshells, made her way to the coffee machine.

“Could you grab me a cup while you’re there? I’d get it for myself, but I need to finish reading over these results. They’re fascinating, if I’m reading this correctly then the potential applications of vibranium go even further than I’d thought!” As he launched into a spiel about the metal’s potential uses in everything from medical equipment to transport, she set a mug in front of him, followed by her own mug after taking a swig out of it. His eyes were still fixed on the paper in front of him and without thinking, she leaned on his shoulders to get a better look at the graph he was motioning to. For a moment, he tripped on his words, and did his face look a little redder than usual? Before she could pull back or apologise though, he’d already carried on, even leaning back into her a little. So she pressed a little closer, leaned a little more heavily onto his shoulders, and stayed there even when they were done with the report and were just discussing its implications. At some point, one of her arms shifted to gently wrap around his neck and at some point after that, one of his hands reached up and gently pressed over her hand. Not quite holding it, just resting there.

By the time she straightened up and broke the contact, the last of their coffee had gone cold and Hank had the same spark in his eyes that he always used to have when he was studying something particularly interesting. He downed the stone-cold dregs in his mug as she made a face at him and tipped her own down the sink.

“I have to get to the lab, this research could make a huge difference to a lot of people.” He smiled up at her at this. “Your input was invaluable Jan. Thank you.” Something so small absolutely should not make her heart skip a beat, and yet.

“Consider it an apology for stealing your clothes.” Hopefully her sheepish smile would get the apology across without making it too awkward. Hank raised an eyebrow at that.

“I thought you said that wasn’t my sweater?” Before she could react, he laughed. “Keep it if you want. It, uh…” he trailed off, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck slightly. “It looks better on you than it ever did on me.” Still not giving her a chance to react, he stood abruptly. “Right! Science!” With an awkward gesture towards the lab, he grabbed the papers on the table and swiftly retreated from the kitchen.

In spite of her blush, Jan couldn’t help but smile. That was new. She dug her nose into the collar of his- her sweater, and was pleased to find that after leaning on him for however long, the smell of coffee and paper and science was as strong as it had ever been. As she made her way upstairs to get dressed she thought to herself, things might never be the same again, but maybe that wasn’t always a bad thing.


End file.
